Lin Hai sat alone in a wicker chair, holding a Sherlock Holmes detective novel. Beside him was a small round tea table, with an empty teacup on it. Lin Hai slowly raised his head and glanced at the watch on his left wrist. It was already a quarter past twelve, lunchtime. He stood up, returned the novel to the nearby bookshelf, then hurried over to the bar not far away.
"Hey, Captain Lin, leaving so early today?" a middle-aged man asked in a shrill voice.
"It's getting late. I need to head back," Lin Hai replied, sounding quite familiar with him.
"You're right, it is late. It's already noon. Look how busy I've been," the middle-aged man said with a big smile. The wrinkles on his face bunched up like creases in a Goubuli bun as he grinned.
Lin Hai pulled a red banknote from his pocket and held it out to the man. The man immediately pushed it back and said, "Captain Lin, don't be so formal. You're a regular at our bookstore. How could I take your money for reading a book?"
